A Troublesome Predicament
by Solitaire44
Summary: A silly little one-shot involving our favorite knight-in-training, in a dress of all things. And Gunther, trying (and failing) to hide his feelings on the matter.


**A Troublesome Predicament**

Hey! It's been a while since I've posted anything, but this fandom is so special, and inspiration hit me when I finished reading Kyra4's lovely, angst-filled story called, "Dawn." All of her stories are fabulous, but this one in particular is so achingly beautiful and heart wrenching. If you haven't read it already, I highly recommend that you do. Also, have a box of tissues on hand. Just because.

Kyra4, this silly little one-shot is for you—I hope you like it.

* * *

Gunther had never been so conflicted in his entire life.

And that was saying something, because Gunther's life revolved around nothing _but_ conflict, it seemed.

He had his squire duties to uphold, which were challenging enough, but in addition, he also had to bear the weight of his father's scorn and constant interfering with the very values he struggled to maintain as a knight in training. A terrible paradox, one might call it, and a tiresome game of push-and-shove that, truth be told, Gunther wanted nothing to do with.

But those were matters that had plagued Gunther for years. Now, however, Gunther faced an entirely new predicament.

Seeing his fellow squire, Jane, in a _dress_ of all things.

A very _exquisite_ , very _vibrant_ dress, at that.

King Caradoc had always been a monarch of expensive taste, and whenever there was cause to celebrate, the king happily made haste to do so.

The next upcoming event would be in honor of Princess Lavinia, as it would soon be the little majesty's 10th year. Lavinia shared her father's eccentricity and love for parties, and wished for nothing more than to dine and dance the night away amongst all of the glittering dresses in a room full of laughter. And so, naturally, a Grande Ball was arranged to be held at Kippernium Castle, on the eve of her birthday.

It would be a small, somewhat intimate ball, because invitations were only extended to the castle's circle of nobility and the staff, but Lavinia didn't mind in the slightest.

As long as Jane made an appearance, the princess would be content.

As was to be expected, Jane's mother had been _absolutely_ insistent on Jane wearing a dress, and Jane, of _course_ , had been _absolutely_ insistent on _NOT_ wearing one—the dilemma of the century, it would seem.

This time, however, Jane had been placed in an awkward situation that had more or less _swayed_ her into submitting to the unimaginable.

Queen Gwendolyn herself had offered one of her finest gowns to Jane, a gown she had worn in her youth, when she still resided in her home kingdom—a land of sloping green landscape and gentle winds across the North Sea within the Scandinavian borders. When said dress was presented to her, Jane's breath hitched in her throat.

The dress was absolutely _breathtaking_. Cascades of emerald silken fabric flowed from a gold-embroidered bodice attached to two poet sleeves that were nearly as long as the dress itself. The trim shimmered in the dim light from the torches on the castle walls, and even Jane, who liked to consider herself immune to such feminine frivolities, had to admit that the gown was truly a royal vision.

Jane had never been offered such a thing in her entire life, and the fact that _Queen Gwendolyn_ was offering such a gift, well, now there was no question of whether or not Jane would be wearing a gown.

Jane truly admired the Queen. She was so vastly different from herself—gentle, soft-spoken, with a motherly sort of wisdom that Jane caught glimpses of from time to time. No matter how hardheaded and stubborn Jane was, she could not find it in her heart to disappoint the Queen and decline her most gracious offer.

That, and Jane was pretty certain that her mother would have murdered her in her sleep had she even _dared_ to refuse.

So, on the eve of Lavinia's ball, Jane found herself, quite literally, in a situation that she had worked _so hard_ to prevent all these years.

A gown. Gods above and heaven forbid, Jane Turnkey was actually wearing a gown.

And she was wearing it quite splendidly, much to Gunther's great consternation.

He could only stare at her in stupefied awe, like a complete idiot, as she entered the dancing hall, flanked by her mother who kept fussing over the fabric of her dress, looking all too pleased with herself while doing so.

Jane, however, looked like she was in some sort of trance. Her normally expressive face was vacant of any smile, and her lucid eyes stared straight ahead, a slight purse in her lips.

She was clutching something to her side, the small hilt of a dagger fastened around her hips in a leather casing. She held it in a vice-like grip, like it was her lifeline in a sea of discord that would swallow her whole should she let go.

Her mother made a few attempts to remove the dagger and it's case from her side, but Jane held an iron grip on the object, and absolutely refused to budge her hand.

Adeline gave up eventually, fidgeted with Jane's sashes some more, nodded in satisfaction and then proceeded to join the Chamberlain who stood at his usual post by the King.

Gunther watched as Pepper approached Jane from the opposite side of the Grande Hall, wide-eyed and mouth gaping—not unlike his own expression.

"Oh Jane, you look absolutely _beau—_ "

"I look like a fool."

"No, Jane, you do _not!_ What on earth compelled you, _you_ of all people to wear a _gown_?" Pepper kept going, oblivious to Jane's watering eyes.

"Why, I remember four years past, when you said it would be completely against everything you worked towards, _all_ your training as a knight, and now look at you! In a lovely gown fit for a—"

Pepper stopped her ramblings when she caught sight of Jane's contorted face, her lower lip wobbling more and more by the second.

" _Oh Petal,"_ Pepper hushed, realizing instantly that she had just given voice to all of Jane's deepest concerns regarding her credibility as a knight. She felt awful.

"Nobody will think any less of you, Jane. You are still the warrior in training we all know you to be…"

Jane visibly flinched and looked away, biting back more tears.

" _Gunther_ will think less of me."

Pepper paused, and let out a small laugh, causing Jane to look back at her friend in confusion, a little hurt by her friend's sudden change in demeanor.

Pepper attempted to hold in her giggles, hand on her chest, but it was no use. The thought of Jane so worried about what _that_ boy thought was just absolutely absurd.

Okay, maybe not that absurd, but Pepper still found it endearing all the same.

"Oh _Petal_ , I am sorry, I, I am _not_ laughing at _you_ , it is just…when have you ever cared about what that boy thinks? _Ever?_ "

Jane's eyes widened comically, and she stopped to ponder what her friend had asked.

 _Do I care what Gunther thinks? Have I ever cared what Gunther thinks? No! I have not! Then why now, am I crying my eyes out over the thought of him snickering at me with his stupid, smug little face?_

Jane chose this moment to actually catch sight of the pest, her comrade-in-arms, only to find him looking directly back at her, eyes equally as wide.

Gunther quickly glanced away, eyes still bulging, and began berating himself.

 _You IDIOT! She saw you gaping at her like a fish out of water! Just, do NOT look at her, no matter how hard—oh gods, is she COMING OVER? WHY is she comin—_

Jane was indeed crossing the dance hall, green eyes narrowed and determined, ready to face Gunther once and for all, and to even use brute force, if necessary.

 _You can do this, Jane. It is just the same, pig-headed dung weevil you have known for years now. Deep breaths, Jane. Deep breath—_

If Gunther thought that Jane looked stunning from across the hall, he was in no way prepared for what he saw when she stood two feet away from him.

Gunther would rather die than admit it, but he had always found Jane pleasant to look at. Her features were just so _bright_ and full of _life_. He found her stare intimidating most days, but only because he lost focus _so easily_ when looking directly at them…

Radiant. Jane looked _radiant_. Her wild, flame-colored hair was pulled back into some intricate up do, gold thread weaved into her usually tangled mess of hair. A few traitorous curls wisped around her face, framing it in a most flattering manner. Jane had definitely matured physically as the years had passed, and now, seeing her in a gown that showcased practically _every goddamn curve_ she possessed, it was all Gunther could do not to salivate right in front of her.

Gunther tried to speak, to make any noise at all really, but nothing came out.

Jane didn't really seem to notice his inner turmoil, however, and in a fluid, fast motion, placed the flat side of her dagger over Gunther's lips.

" _Listen,_ you dung weevil. I _know_ I am in a _dress_ and I _know_ that I look absolutely _ridiculous_ , but if I hear one word about it from you, _you will be sorry._ "

Here, Jane leaned in closer, and Gunther could smell her earthy, faint Dragon scent.

" _Am I understood?"_

Blade still pressed against his lips, Gunther bobbed his head up and down frantically, still trying to process _what the HELL_ was happening.

Blazing eyes still narrowed towards him, Jane released the blade from his lips and slid it back into its case around her hips.

"Good. I will see you tomorrow then…in the training yard. Good eve, Gunther."

With that, Jane turned on her heel and marched towards her friends and the princess, who was undoubtedly waiting for her favorite squire to give her the first dance.

Gunther, still perplexed out of his _mind_ , blinked a couple times and gulped quite audibly.

 _Oh, bother._

This was a most troublesome predicament indeed.


End file.
